Bella Gerant Alii
by Ducks In Top Hats
Summary: "Let others wage wars." The Great War has nearly reached its conclusion, and peace is returning to Europe. However, some Clanker powers are unwilling to surrender, and they want their revenge on a certain prince.
1. Chapter 1

"Be careful with that, _Dummkopf_!"

Deryn's thick Scottish burr roused Alek from his reverie, and he looked down to see his precarious grasp on a rather hefty wooden box. His green eyes widened in alarm and he hastily readjusted his holding so the box was no longer in danger of falling to the ground.

"Princes- always so careless!" huffed Deryn as she brushed by him, flashing a small, wry smirk in his direction. A bemused smile curled at Alek's lips, but Deryn was already making her way down the hallway. Alek shuffled after her, the heavy cargo he was in charge of transporting severely slowing his progress. He knew from experience that eggs in large numbers were heavy, but even the package Bovril had come in hadn't been this monstrous. What on earth had the Zoological Society created? He was tempted to inquire about this to Doctor Barlow, but he highly doubted that he would get answer. With an indignant huff he once again readjusted his hold on the box and picked up his pace so he wasn't lagging as far behind from Deryn. Alek wasn't fond of the notorious secrecy of the Society, but he had more-or-less resigned himself to being kept in the dark.

"Are we almost there?" Alek grunted, his arms growing weary from the excessive weight.  
"You're tired already? You're a lot of things, Alek, but I didn't think you were a wuss." The challenge she issued was all too obvious. He scowled and didn't say another word until they arrived at Doctor Barlow's stateroom. Deryn rapped lightly on the door and after a few seconds in swung open, Alek sidling inside after Deryn. He could feel the lady boffin watching him warily as he gently set the box down in a vacant corner, and when he turned around to face her, there was a blatant expression of relief on the woman's face.

"Good. Hopefully you didn't manage to ruin anything," Doctor Barlow sniffed, making her way over to the eggs.

"Yeah, you're welcome," Alek grumbled, although he should have been used to her lack of gratitude by now.  
"Alright, well, if there's nothing else you need…," Deryn began, but her voice trailed off as a figure entered the room behind them. The imperious stature of Count Volger was unmistakable, and a tangible tension followed his arrival.  
"…Then I guess we'll be going," Alek said softly, completing Deryn's statement. He pushed past Volger, not bothering to give the man a second look before disappearing down the adjacent hallway.

So much had changed since Alek decided to revoke his claim to the throne. He had anticipated the reactions of the dignitaries and rulers of the countries participating in war, and he could handle their never-ending bombardment of questions. He kept his motivations to himself; how could he reveal to the world that he had given up his royal title for Deryn? He would never be able to share that tidbit of information.  
Alek could endure what he could anticipate. He had expected Volger to be angry, but the confrontation that followed the annulment of his claim… Alek never could have imagined.  
It had been a heated, bitter argument, to the point where even Deryn, Bovril, and Doctor Barlow escaped to a less volatile part of the _Leviathan_. Things were said that probably should have been left unsaid.

"_You never had any purpose, Volger, and I suppose that's why my father chose you. You're expendable, and if something ever happened, you wouldn't be missed." Immediately Alek regretted the words that left his mouth, but it was too late; the damage had been done. He would never forget the look of sheer incredulousness on Volger's face, which had soon turned into an angry sneer.  
"You worthless brat," the count hissed. Alek's eyes widened as Volger lifted his hand, and a loud cry filled the stateroom as a searing pain consumed the left side of his face. Clutching his cheek, he slowly looked up at Volger, whose hand was still partially extended towards him. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but Alek was already backing away towards the door, not caring what the count had to say as he slammed the door behind him._

Deryn had found him shortly after his fight with Volger. It didn't take her long to put two-and-two together, and while she tried to offer some reassurance and support, Alek refused to talk about their fight. Even now, several months later, it was still a sore topic, one that Deryn knew to keep well away from until Alek was ready to talk.

"How about we grab some dinner?" Deryn suggested. Alek might have royal blood, but he was still a guy, and food was almost always able to cheer guys up. Much to her dismay, though, he declined.  
"Fine. When you're done _sulking_, you can meet me back in my room." Huffing, she departed towards the kitchen.  
Alek hardly acknowledged her departure, instead making his way towards the upper decks, and the balconies than lined the membrane of the airbeast. The Society's ship wasn't near as grand as the _Leviathan_, but then again, it wasn't a military craft. The _Endeavour_ was more concerned with the comfort of its passengers, and providing a utilitarian space for the residing scientists and cages for the beasties being studied or transported. Alek preferred the _Leviathan_, but he had to admit, the balconies were a nice feature, so he didn't have to hang on to the ratlines for dear life if he wanted to go outside.

The serene French countryside was spread out below them. Amongst the lush trees, rolling hills, and sparkling streams, Alek could spot small settlements dotting the land, and even some farmers tending to their land with the aid of some fabricated beasties. The sight was enough to lift his spirits, if ever so slightly. The war was still going on, but it was clear that the Darwinist powers had won, with Clanker resistance manifesting in small skirmishes that were easily stifled. Peace was once again settling over Europe, or at least the façade of it. Soldiers were returning home to their families, buildings that had been damaged due to battles were being restored. The minds of government officials were still on the war, but there had been a segue from military strategy and armaments to peace treaties and negotiations. There was a sense of tranquility throughout Europe, especially the Darwinist powers, yet Alek couldn't suppress a gripping, nauseating premonition of foreboding. The evidence of peace was all around him, but he felt like something dangerous, something poisonous, was lurking beneath the shallow surface. He was tempted to share his feeling of unease with Deryn, or even the lady boffin, but Alek dismissed the notion; they would probably accuse him of being a worry wart and the former would no doubt harass him for it.

The lengthening of shadows and dimming light heralded the sun's descent below the horizon. Alek knew he should probably retreat from the balcony, but he remained stationary, his green eyes lingering on the sky, which was painted with a myriad of colors. Warm reds, vibrant oranges, and shimmering golds painted swatches across the heavens, mingling with inky darkness towards the east that was the telltale sign of night's encroachment. It wasn't until the sky had turned completely black and tiny pinpricks of light penetrated the seamless obsidian-hued mass did Alek finally leave the landing and make his way to Deryn's quarters.

He knocked lightly on her door, and he entered after hearing a muffled "come in!"

Deryn was sprawled out on her bed, a book with vibrant illustrations of several animal species clasped haphazardly in her hand. Alek had seen it with her before, and all he knew was that it was a basic guide to Charles Darwin's theories; _On The Origin of Species_, if he recalled correctly. At first he'd questioned her motives for reading it until Deryn had reminded him that she was now Dr. Barlow's assistant, and if she was to be the assistant of a boffin, she needed to be familiar with their field of study. She had let him read a few pages but Alek soon gave up, finding little interest in the book, which rather disappointed Deryn.

"Are you still reading that infernal piece of literature?" Alek sniffed as he took a seat on the edge of Deryn's bed.  
"Oh, get stuffed!" she retorted, shoving the book at his face, which Alek deftly managed to avoid. Grumbling a string of curses under her breath (which were thankfully obscured by her thick Scottish accent), Deryn gave up literally trying to shove Darwin down Alek's throat and resumed her reading. Smirking to himself, Alek leaned against the fabricated wood of the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him as he cast a furtive glance in Deryn's direction. He suppressed an amused chuckle when he saw that she was already dozing off, her mouth partially agape and the book perched haphazardly on her stomach. Lifting himself to his feet, taking care not to wake her, Alek placed Deryn's oh-so-lovely choice of nighttime reading on her bedstand before leaning down and placing a soft, uncharacteristically tender kiss on her forehead. Such gestures had started to become commonplace in their relationship, though the subtle brushing of fingers to the not-so-subtle snogging in Alek's quarters still felt foreign to the former prince. He had plenty of experience concerning diplomacy and the archaic rules concerning the most trivial of things, such as which pinkie to hold up whilst drinking tea, but dealing with girls? The boy was still trying to wrap his head around such strange things.

Alek silently slipped out of Deryn's room, fully intent on making his way back to his own quarters to get some sleep when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned around, lifting a brow as the short, stout messenger gave a quick bow and handed him a folded piece of paper.

"A letter, Your Highn- er, Mr. Hohenburg," the man huffed, giving a small, apologetic smile before waddling off. Alek sighed, wondering if people would ever let go of his former title; albeit, being referred to merely as 'Mr. Hohenburg' did put him off ever so slightly. Rolling his shoulders in a shrug, he undid the letter, his expression darkening immediately when he saw the elegant scrawl on the inside, and he was tempted to toss the wretched paper in the nearest toilet.

Apparently, Volger was in dire need of his company. They had spoken nary a word to each other since that little…incident, and despite his reluctance to speak with the wildcount, Alek knew that if Volger had summoned him, most likely it was something of relevance. Uttering a few choice words in German, the young ex-prince stalked off towards Volger's quarters.


	2. Chapter 2

**First and foremost- thank you so much to those who reviewed! Your kind words mean a lot, and I greatly appreciate the feedback. I'll do my best to keep all your suggestions and comments in mind. (:**

**Secondly, I might be interested in a beta reader. I always miss something when it comes to spelling, grammar, and simple lapses of attention (such as Doctor Bovril in the last chapter), and it would be nice to have somebody to bounce ideas off of, especially since there are some details in this story that I've yet to iron out. If you're interested, feel free to PM me.**

**I think that's about it. As always, if there are any thoughts or concerns, be sure to let me know in your review~**

**Oh, and I forgot to put this in the first chapter: I own nothing!**

The halls of the _Endeavour _were silent, filled with the kind of tangible quiet that settled over the entire ship like a blanket. On the _Leviathan_, even in the middle of the night, there was always some kind of noise, whether it was the scuttling of the messenger lizards or the dull, but always present hum of the Clanker engines. Alek didn't especially mind, having grown up in a relatively calm and tame environment, but after months of seemingly non-stop action, the complete and utter silence was slightly unnerving.

Despite looking over his shoulder every time he heard a floorboard creak, Alek certainly took his time making his way to Volger's stateroom. A journey that should only have taken two or three minutes turned into a twenty minute trek, accompanied by a five minute period of simply staring at the older man's door, debating on whether or not he should see what the wildcount had to say, or retreat back to his own quarters. Perhaps against his better judgment, Alek rapped hesitantly against the door, which cracked open ever so slightly moments later.

Seeing no way out of an inevitable chat with Volger (with the exception of the ship crashing), Alek shuffled into the room, shutting the door quietly behind himself. Volger's quarters were plain, a carbon copy of the rest of the spaces on the _Endeavour_, but at least the rest of the ship's inhabitants had added some sort of personal touch to their living area. Deryn had all sorts of military memorabilia tacked onto the walls, in addition to new charts of plants and hybrid animals that almost entirely obscured the floor. Even Alek had assorted items from his recent travels adorning his walls, but the only evidence that somebody took up space in this room was a rather common looking globe, and two steaming cups of tea on the table. His host, however, was nowhere to be seen.

Lifting his shoulders in a small shrug, Alek took a seat in the nearest of the two high backed chairs facing the coffee table. He tentatively brought one of the china cups to his lips, eyes narrowing warily when he recognized the familiar aroma of chamomile. Volger _hated_ chamomile, often lamenting about how Alek's mother had instilled poor habits in her son when it came to choosing proper beverages. He never bothered to mind the count's opinion, of course, but he couldn't help but feel suspicious over Volger's choice of drinks.

"It's not poisoned, you know," came Volger's haughty drawl from behind him. Moments later, a newspaper fell into Alek's lap, which he fumbled to catch as he set the tea back down on the coaster. Silence had once again settled between them as Alek processed the fiery, crumbled façade of the Hofburg Palace, which was clearly displayed in all its black and white glory on the front page of the paper. He could almost picture in his mind's eye the twisting, devastating licks of flame consuming the palace in a wild conflagration, devouring the elegant pillars and marring the antiquated exterior with ash and soot.

"Wha- what happened?" he stuttered as he turned his attention to Volger, obviously expecting some kind of explanation. The man was impassive as ever as he sipped idly at his tea, but Alek had spent quite a few months traversing the wild outdoors with the count, and he didn't miss the whitened knuckles of Volger's hand, nor the incessant tapping of his fingers against his knee.

"Bombed," he said curtly. "Earlier today. Thirty people were killed."

Alek, stunned, leaned back in his seat, staring at the photo on the front page but not truly seeing it. The Hofburg Palace, his childhood home, _destroyed_. An unfamiliar premonition of anger settled in his stomach, manifesting physically as Alek balled up the newspaper and chucked it to some unknown corner of the room.

"It's too soon to say if the same individuals who were responsible for the first bombing were also responsible for this one," Volger mused, dragging Alek out of his reverie. The former prince's brows furrowed as he recalled a few months earlier, where the Hohenburg's summer retreat on the Black Sea had been similarly decimated. The place was hardly a "retreat", rather another grand show of power where his father would often invite important dignitaries and people of significance from the court and host parties that would be talked about for weeks. Nonetheless, it had been a staple of Alek's childhood, and its ruination had procured a similar reaction from him when he had first learned of the building's fate.

"I can't help but wonder if a pattern might be emerging," Volger continued to speculate, which earned him a venomous glare from Alek.

"I hardly think two bombings is enough to elicit a pattern," he spat back. It was merely coincidence, he told himself, a crazed group of radicals that was angry at the aristocracy.

"Really, Alek? Two places near and dear to your family are destroyed, and if you would have bothered to read farther, you would have noticed that several of your father's portraits and personal items were vandalized. My speculation isn't completely without merit," Volger said coolly. Alek opened his mouth to retort, but the words died on his tongue. He hated to admit it, but the wildcount had a point. For whatever reason, somebody was targeting his family, despite the fact that its most prominent members were long dead.

"So, did you want to talk to me just to tell me that? I would have found out in the morning, and we would have saved each other the trouble of having this conversation," Alek growled, not caring if his words sounded harsher than intended. God help him, if Volger intended to give him a lecture-

"I simply want you to be careful," murmured the count, interrupting Alek's rambling thoughts. Alek blinked stupidly, the words seeming so trivial in comparison to what they had been discussing moments before.

"Be…_careful_? You just wanted to say _that_?" His expression quickly changed from baffled to annoyed, a mask which was becoming customary when dealing with Volger. Volger only rolled his eyes, which only added to Alek's mood; no doubt if he had done a similar gesture, the count would have yapped at him for conducting himself in such an "un-princely" manner.

"Stop acting like a child, Alek," the man huffed, clearly exasperated with Alek's petulant behavior. "You know as well as I do that this is a delicate time for Europe, and it wouldn't kill you to keep an eye out for yourself. Especially tomorrow night, at the Zoological Society's gala." Alek's eyes flickered open in surprise—he had forgotten about the event altogether. Come to think of it, the package he and Deryn had delivered to Doctor Barlow's quarters had probably been some new creature that was due to be presented at the gala upon the morrow. It better have been worth the trouble.

"Yes, Volger, because terrorists care so much about the newest fabricated rodents and handbags," Alek grunted in response. The reminder of the gala only added his already foul mood. Normally he didn't mind formal affairs, having attended several back in Austria with his parents, and he had learned quite well to put on a black face and smile, shake hands, and humor the particularly long-winded ambassadors. But at least foreign affairs were _interesting_. At this event, he would literally be watching paint dry as a demonstration of what a new fabricated species of fungus could do to speed up the process.  
"I don't think we have anything to worry about. Really." Alek wouldn't say it, but he almost hoped something happened to disrupt the monotony he was sure to enjoy the following night.

Having no strong desire to continue listening to Volger's nagging, Alek placed the still half-full cup of tea back on the table and lifted himself from his chair, brushing imaginary lint from the crease of his jacket.  
"Just because you don't value your own wellbeing doesn't mean the feeling is mutual amongst the rest of us," Volger said softly, earning a wary glance from Alek. The younger man was taken aback by the oddly protective implications of the statement, but a brief reminder of the bitter argument they'd had months back stopped Alek from returning the sentiment.

"I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself. Thank you for the tea, Volger." And with that, the door closed abruptly behind the former prince as he made his way back to his own quarters. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, first brooding on the tedious gala and contemplating Volger's warnings, before settling on the fact that his childhood home had been essentially destroyed. To most people, the Hofburg Palace was just a symbol of an imperial government with crumbling power, but to Alek, it was far, far more personal. He had thought that by revoking his claim to the throne and joining Deryn in the Zoological Society, he had hoped to start anew, yet he couldn't help but feel oddly…empty due to the loss of the hallmarks of his past. He was suddenly overcome with an immense feeling of homesickness that left him stumbling into his own room, leaning against the wall for support. Within seconds it had passed, but the brief experience left him feeling acutely _alone_.

Alek sighed as he flopped onto his bed, his limbs splayed gracelessly across the sheets as he stared blankly up at the ceiling. Surely this was merely a fleeting phase. After all, he hadn't set foot in Austria in almost a year, and despite having Deryn and other familiar faces around, one couldn't help but be a bit homesick, right? Maybe he could bring this up with Volger…. With a quick shake of his head, the thought was dismissed; Alek wasn't quite ready to forgive the older man, not yet. And Deryn would just dismiss him as a worry wart, and though he hated to admit it, she was probably right. He was making a mountain out of a mole hill, and hopefully by morning, he could put this entire ordeal behind him.

**Sorry if this is moving a bit slow for some of you guys, it should be picking up pretty soon. Hope I'm not disappointing any of you. D:  
Also, I'll try to keep to weekly updates, as well, and longer chapters.**

**Reviews are always appreciated. :]**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry this was inordinately late, comrades! I've been out of town for the last two weeks, and I didn't have time to post this before I departed. Once again, my apologies.**

**Thanks again for the reviews! I'm not kidding when I say they kind of make my day. c:**

**I wrote this in Deryn's point of view, because I figured it'd be a wee bit more interesting than having Alek brood the whole time.**

**Disclaimer: Perhaps when I succeed in my endeavor to become dictator of the world, I'll own the Leviathan series. But for the time being, I don't own anything.**

* * *

"Barking spiders, Alek, would you hold still? If I didn't know better, I'd swear I was helping to dress a child."

Deryn smirked as Alek scoffed at her jibe, which quickly turned to a surprised sputter as she yanked roughly on his tie.  
"You would think princes would know how to dress themselves," she drawled on, ignoring the venomous look Alek was giving her. His cheeks were red in embarrassment, no doubt chagrined that a girl was helping him to get dressed for the upcoming gala.

"I was _about_ to fix it until you assaulted me," Alek huffed, once again receiving the cold shoulder from the Scotswoman. After a few more seconds of uncomfortable silence, Deryn stepped back to admire her handiwork, a smug smile spreading across her fine features.

"Not bad for a woman, eh?" she remarked, garnering an exasperated sigh from the Austrian. Her brow furrowed slightly as she watched Alek fidget uncomfortably in his suit, green eyes darting restlessly from one thing to another. Deryn knew he didn't particularly want to attend the Zoological Society's gala tonight, but something else seemed to be troubling him, something completely independent of Alek's disdain for the night's event.

"You know, it's not too late to pretend to be sick," Deryn suggested, the faintest hint of concern in her voice. Alek flinched at her words, obviously having been consumed in his own thoughts before being disturbed.

"Huh? No, no, I'm fine. Really," he insisted, forcing a smile onto his face, though it looked more like a tired grimace.

Deryn scowled, now fully positive that he was hiding _something_ from her. Normally she wouldn't mind, as their relationship had never been built about sharing their feelings or whatever garbage "normal" couples did. Most of the time if either of them had something on their mind, the other wouldn't pry, their lingering presence the only indicator that if an ear was needed to listen, it would be provided. These moments were few and far between (thankfully), but they occurred often enough to where Deryn could immediately tell if something was bothering Alek, and there was definitely something bothering him tonight.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked again, her lips quirking into a frown as Alek remained silent, apparently preoccupied with his own thoughts. Deryn briefly wondered if his reticence had something to do with the bombing of the Hohenburg Palace. The news of the bombing had spread quickly throughout the day, but many on board the ship had dismissed it as the actions of radical anarchists, nothing to be concerned about. Perhaps the destruction of an iconic landmark wasn't relevant to the more important proceedings in Europe, but not everybody shared the same sentiment.

For the second time she received no response, and deciding that she didn't want this to turn into one of those annoying heart-to-hearts, Deryn figured she'd drop the subject for the time being. Giving Alek a swift cuff on the head, successfully knocking him back into reality, she gestured towards the door with a pointed glance.  
"If you're done moping, I think it's time to join the rest of society." Alek seemed relieved that Deryn had decided not to pry, so with minimal griping, he followed her into the now-empty corridors of the _Endeavour_, fully intent on shoving his personal dilemmas into the back of his mind and at least pretending to enjoy the night.

The airbeast was suspended on the outskirts of Hyde Park, a small clearing acting as a makeshift docking bay. Even from the gondola, Deryn could make out the crowds of people milling about the park, illuminated by floating lanterns that were probably meant to show off the newest species of glowworms. A swell of excitement coursed through her veins, a feeling that had been absent from her life since retiring from the _Leviathan_. The gala was the first time she was truly able to indulge in her new choice of career, and she planned to take full advantage of what the night had to offer.

Linking her arm in Alek's (and ignoring the former prince's indignant protests at the very un-Deryn like action), they descended from the gondola, making their way through the park until the trees opened up into another clearing, revealing what seemed to be a poorly organized zoo. Tuxedoed men and lavishly dressed women ogled over what looked like a giant, brown-spotted steer, at least the size of the average elephantine, but far more intimidating thanks to its vast, deadly head of horns. According to the man with the ridiculously large Stetson hat and obnoxious Texas twang—which she recognized from her adventures in the southern United States during the whole Goliath incident—the beast was used primarily for plowing fields and hauling large payloads, supposedly doing the work of two elephantines and far less clumsy.

Menageries of other fabricated beasties were all over the place. Birds of all shapes, sizes, and colors filled the inky, smoggy sky of London, some whose feathers reflected the soft golden light, and upon further inspection, Deryn could see that their plumage was made entirely of thin sheets of metal. Her attention shifted to the ground after something slimy had brushed against her trousers, and her blue eyes widened when she saw what looked like a miniature dragon, and she could have sworn smoke was leaking from its nostrils. The dragonesque soon ran off, in the pursuit of two beasties resembling ferrets, with the exception of fiery red coats. This place was utter chaos, and she loved it.

"Enjoying the gala, Mister Sharp?" Deryn swung around, attempting to disguise her bewildered expression with a calm smile.  
"_Mister _Sharp," came a small voice from Doctor Barlow's shoulder, and she shot the loris a scathing glare before returning her attention to the imperious woman in front of her.

"Seems more like a zoo than a gala," the girl remarked, tugging lightly at her black waistcoat under the lady boffin's scrutinizing gaze. "Not that I'm complaining!" she amended quickly, a sheepish grin forming on her lips. And it was true, she wasn't. Deryn always enjoyed organized chaos, whether it had been on the _Leviathan_, the cluttered, messy experiments of the Zoological Society's scientists, or an event like this. As long as no one was poisoned, injured, or eaten, Deryn didn't see any harm in letting the fabricated beasties roam around.

"This is what the gala should be like," Barlow responded, her clever eyes sweeping over the masses of people and creatures. "For the last couple of years, everything was centered around war. It's nice to see things that weren't made for the sole purpose of killing others."

Deryn lifted a brow, a bit taken aback by Doctor Barlow's confession. The boffin had never seen too concerned with the war, and when she did acknowledge its existence, her comments were usually focused on how incompetent Churchill was. While Deryn would never have expected her to be a blood thirsty advocate of war, she definitely didn't anticipate pacifist ideals, either. Yet she found herself agreeing with the other woman. There was nothing like watching a flock of flechette bats shred a Clanker aeroplane, and she would never get the image of the behemoth in the bay of Istanbul out of her head, but these new fabrications captivated her in a different way, and they were a pleasant reminder that several months of fighting were winding down. Albeit, nothing could replace the feeling of hanging off the ratlines during a battle in the sky, but Deryn knew she could find other exhilarating adventures elsewhere.

"Were those eggs we delivered to your stateroom for the gala, Doctor Barlow?" asked Alek, whom Deryn had almost completely forgotten about. She glanced over at him, surprised but happy to see a small glint of excitement on his face, and though Alek didn't hold Darwinist creations in the same esteem as herself, she was glad to see that he was in a better mood than he had been a few hours before.

"I'm afraid not, Alek," the lady boffin replied lightly. "Those were meant for a colleague here in London."

"Any idea of what they are?" Deryn piqued, but Doctor Barlow was already melting back into the crowd, her interest in their idle chatter apparently exhausted. Deryn merely shrugged, choosing to follow the boffin's example and see more of what the gala had to offer.

"Treats us like slaves, and she can't be bothered to tell us what those eggs were!" huffed Alek, earning an elbow to the ribs from Deryn. Seconds later, a terrified keening erupted from beside her, and instinctively she shifted her weight in preparation for a fight, until she spotted the gleaming bird perched atop Alek's head, casually preening its delicate metal feathers. The former prince's face was red with embarrassment, and Deryn didn't hold back raucous bout of laughter.  
"How very princely of you, screaming like a lass!" she chortled. Alek's expression was the textbook definition of if-looks-could-kill, but Deryn pretended not to notice, figuring she wouldn't compromise his dignity any more.

The night proceeded without any more mishaps. Eventually it was time for the "honored guests" to receive their recognition, as was customary at any formal gathering. Reluctantly, Deryn and Alek made their way over to the circular tables that had been erected around a raised platform, choosing one near the edge in case the long-winded speakers became a bit too tedious and she could chance slipping away. After half an hour, Deryn was wondering whether being stuck in a cage with a Russian fighting bear would be more enjoyable than listening to a fat man in a suit drabble on about his fabricated fungus revolutionized the paint industry. She cast a cursory look at Alek to see if he was faring any better, frowning when she saw him glancing anxiously into the hazy night sky.

"What's got your panties all in a bunch?" she grumbled, her buoyant mood deflated after one too many sleep-inducing speeches.

Alek paused, as if waiting for something before he replied.  
"Don't you hear that?" he whispered, smiling apologetically when a couple in front of them gave them a disapproving glare for talking. Deryn's eyes narrowed suspiciously, wondering if the daft prince had finally lost it, but after a few minutes of attempting to drown out the speaker's monotone voice, she heard it, a steady thrumming characteristic of Clanker engines. The noise wasn't entirely unusual; every so often mechanized planes would fly across London, typically part of some experiment combining Darwinist and Clanker creatures, so at first Deryn didn't think too much of it. But as the buzzing began to crescendo, more eyes ascended to the sky, and an apprehensive murmuring broke out amongst the crowd.

Deryn opened her mouth to hush the pair that had previously chastised Alek and herself, but whatever retort had been on the tip of her tongue immediately died as a low whine drowned out any other noise, interrupted by a deafening, earth-shattering explosion. She was knocked from her seat, hands clambering at the soft earth as she tried to hoist herself back onto her feet, only to be knocked back down by another powerful blast. Screams and yells punctuated the hazy veil, giving Hyde Park an eerie, unsettling atmosphere.

"Alek!" Deryn called into the gloom, coughing as dust and other debris filtered into her lungs. Finally managing to pull herself to her feet, she stumbled through the gloom, spotting faint silhouettes of other individuals through the dark smog, but not able to distinguish any unique features. Another explosion sounded a good distance off, shaking the ground beneath her feet but not enough undo her balance. Obviously this wasn't the case for everyone, though, as a body landed right on top of her, and further investigation revealed it to be Alek.

"Get off me, ya bum-rag! You weigh more than a barking hippoesque," she spat, though a faint edge of relief crept into her Scottish burr. Alek mumbled something incoherent as Deryn shoved him off her and gracelessly pulled himself upright.

"Volger warned me that something like this would happen," he gasped. "I thought he was just being paranoid..." His words trailed off into a violent fit of coughing, and Deryn promptly grabbed him by the wrist and began walking in what she hoped was the direction of the _Endeavour_. The pungent aroma of burnt foliage and gunpowder filled the air, mingling with the acrid odor of burnt flesh. Usually nothing affected Deryn Sharp's stomach of steel, but the scent was enough to make bile rise in the back of her throat, and she hated to think of what carnage was obscured by the thick, muggy haze.

"Of course when the count has something to say, it's always doom and gloom!" she lamented. Deryn faltered mid-step as the muffled sound of buzzing Clanker engines pierced the unnerving silence, and a sound reminiscent of rolling thunder suddenly exploded around the pair. A myriad of objects, ranging from knife-sharp splinters to pieces of rock flew past, a hefty branch nicking her in the ribs and sending her toppling into the churned up earth. Her head erupted in a splitting pain as her skull landed with a definite crack on an upturned boulder, and she vaguely recognized the warm, wet feel of blood trickling down her face.

"Barking spiders," she groaned, not particularly liking the fuzzy black appearing on the edge of her vision. There was another massive tremor, the sound of something whistling past her ear, and the darkness consumed her.

* * *

**I need to get back in the swing of writing battle scenes. Bah.**

**As always, please feel free to leave any suggestions or concerns in your review! Hint hint. ಠ_ಠ**


	4. Chapter 4

**Salutations, comrades. It's been awhile. Sorry for disappearing off the face of the earth for a few months. :/ Marching band had occupied most of my life, along with additional things, such college applications that I put off until the last minute (oops), a pretty heavy workload for school this year, and extremely fickle inspiration. I've also moved to a new house and acquired a job, so I've had to deal with all the joy that comes with that.**

**Anywho, here's chapter four. There's some descriptions of blood and corpses, but nothing too graphic.**

**I don't own anything**

* * *

It was as though he was living in a surreal state between reality and dreams. Smoke, dust, and debris completely obscured Alek's surroundings, a writhing, shadowy mass that allowed nothing to penetrate it. Every so often he could make out a vague silhouette—or was it just the dust, curling in on itself and giving the impression of a human? The mirages were disconcerting, and Alek was starting to think that he'd never find a way out, that he would perish in the impenetrable fog.

It was difficult to suppress his growing panic, an unpleasant feeling that continued to escalate as he wandered about helplessly. He strained to hear something, any indicator of life, but the dim fog muted any sound, and any soft shout or yell seemed like it came from all around him. Alek hadn't felt this powerless since the day he had learned of his parents' death and Volger had stuffed him into a Stormwalker and dragged him to Switzerland…and he had hoped to never feel that hopeless again. Yet it was difficult not to when it felt as though he was blindfolded, and his ears and nose were stuffed with pieces of cloth. But he kept moving; he had to. He had to find Deryn and Dr. Barlow, make sure they were okay, that nothing had happ-

Alek's thoughts came to a hasty halt as his body plummeted forward towards the ground, except instead of hard earth, he felt something like coarse fur brushing his face. He reached out to probe the strange texture, and immediately recoiled as he felt something moist and fleshy. Alek glanced down at his hand, crying out in dismay when he saw it coated in blood. He scrambled away from furry mass, and upon inspecting it closer, he realized it was the behemoth steer that the American boffin had been showing off. He could make out the faint outline of the head, the once imposing horns now broken or shattered, part of its head speared by one of the sharp points of bone.

Morbid curiosity gripped him, and Alek found himself circling the mangled heap of flesh, though came to an abrupt stop when he saw the back half of the animal—or rather, what had been the back half. Despite the thick fog, he could clearly see that the streer's hindquarters had been completely blown off by a bomb, exposing a maimed mess of ribs, flesh, and innards. The acrid stench of burnt fur, skin, and meat, coupled with the overwhelming scent of blood was enough to make Alek sick, and he released the contents of the stomach adjacent to the beastie.

He recalled a similar sight back in Russia, the bare carcass of the airbeast that had been sacrificed to the fighting bears. But the bones had been barren, and seemed more like one of the eerie, abandoned cathedrals that were scattered across Europe. Here, though, was a fresh carcass, blood and meat still clinging to the bones, the aroma of death still heavy in the air. It was a gruesome, putrid, horrifying sight to behold, which left Alek chilled to his core.

Alek hadn't been watching his step as he traveled around the steer, his eyes wide with both horror and fascination, the former becoming dominate as he slipped and fell into a pool of congealed, inky blood. This seemed to knock some common sense back into the Austrian, and he scrambled back onto his feet and hurriedly departed, now with a renewed vigor to find his way out of the fog. Not long after his escape, he could hear the distant wail of police sirens, accompanied by tiny pinpricks of light that somehow managed to penetrate the dense dust.

At long last, Alek finally emerged at the northern end of the park. The blaring sirens, the wails of people shouting for their spouse, their children, their friends, the smell of gunpowder and torn up earth, and the sight of sheer chaos hit him like a brick wall, and it felt as though all of his energy had been sucked out of him, leaving a hollow shell behind.

Alek knew he was not the same naïve boy who had left his family's posh palace a little more than a year ago. He had stayed on the _Leviathan_ for much of the time, and during his travels with the crew, he had seen many appalling things: swarms of flechette bats tearing apart a ship, the Behemoth completely engulfing the German frigates back in Istanbul, the empty carcass of an airbeast in Russia, and Japanese kappas completely and utterly demolishing a crew. Alek thought he had become acquainted with the less sightly aspects of war, but as he observed the broken and bloodied corpses barely covered by blankets, the blood, the pain, the sheer helplessness, he realized that he had only scratched the surface.

"Young man! We need to look at your wounds!"  
Alek started as he heard a voice behind him, which belonged to a rather frazzled, anxious young doctor who was quickly approaching.

"T-The blood's not mine," Alek replied, wincing slightly at the sound of his shaky voice. His unease hadn't escaped the medic's notice, and Alek's eyes narrowed in disdain as the other man attempted to grab his arm. Scowling, he yanked his arm away, fixing the insistent doctor with a steely glare.  
"I'm _fine_," he reiterated, which at long last sent the other man scuttling away, though not without some lingering skepticism as to why the young man was caked in drying blood.

Upon the medic's disappearance back into the crowd, Alek's temporary façade immediately crumbled, and he was once again at a loss as to how to overcome his predicament. The amount of people swarming about was massive, and no doubt this wasn't the only quasi-hospital set up to accommodate the accident. How on earth was he supposed to locate Deryn, or even Dr. Barlow or Volger?

Alek wasn't sure when he realized that his feet were leading him in a meandering path through the chaotic throng of people. His eyes listlessly searched each face, all bearing a similar blank, incredulous expression that mirrored his own, all seeming to ask the same thing: _why? _ Why would anyone care to bomb a gathering of boffins, who hardly discussed anything more interesting than a _fascinating_ new species of beetle, or the evolutionary heritage of bacteria. Despite these misgivings, Alek couldn't help but feel like something was tugging at the back of his mind, some small piece of information that was right there, but couldn't quite-

"Alek! Oh, thank heavens, for awhile I thought you might have…."

Dr. Barlow's words trailed off and her relieved smile melted into a sort of grimace, but Alek hardly noticed. Only when she gasped quietly in horror did Alek begrudgingly force a reassuring smirk onto his face. "I fell. It's not my blood."

* * *

The sun broke the horizon a couple hours later, illuminating the carnage of the gala.

The bombs had kept primarily to the park, and the park itself had been all but obliterated. The pristine green lawn was now a cratered waste, splintered trees forming haphazard bridges between the churned up pits. Other unidentifiable debris was scattered about, from massive boulders to tatters linen and fabric, some lumps of charred matter that looked suspiciously organic….

And in the distance amongst the wreckage, the carcass of the massive steer rose from the earth, the bones of its ribcage reaching up towards the dusky gray sky, a massive pair of glistening red hands, clinging to the remnants of the receding night, as if to drag those wretched planes from the air…

…only to have those hopes scorned as one of the ribs erupted in a giant crack, moaning as it fell back to the ground with a resounding crash.

Alek shuddered and turned away.

"What a shame," he heard Doctor Barlow mutter. Alek couldn't help a small smirk from curling at his lips. He remembered the first time the boffin had set eyes upon the beast, huffing and rolling her eyes and proclaiming the steer to be "gaudy and crude", followed by some other very descriptive adjectives concerning its American owner.

Alek was the first to turn away, away from the sights of gore and death, away from the smell of decay and the knot in his heart whenever he thought about who might still be disguised under all the wreckage.

"I don't know about you, Doctor Barlow, but I prefer to be optimistic and hope that Dylan and Volger are in a hospital, not buried under a glorified cow."

* * *

Doctor Barlow gave him an odd look, but did not raise any comment. The pair departed, a frazzled woman and a boy with a haunted look in his eyes, but neither paused nor flinched as sharp moan pierced the silence hanging heavy around them, and another of the bones came crashing down.

They searched the whole day, and as the sun began to set behind the rooftops of London, Barlow and Alek both were ready to join the dead in their graves. Either no one found a blonde Scottish boy or a tall, brooding Austrian fellow to be exceptionally remarkable, or they truly hadn't been seen. Both of them hoped it had simply been too chaotic and the police officers they questioned were merely forgetful; neither wanted to dwell on the latter option and what those stipulations could be.

They finally found their missing compatriots by sheer dumb luck. Alek and Doctor Barlow had asked after Volger and Deryn at St. Mary's Hospital earlier in the day, but the doctors working had glared at them disdainfully and declared that "_this is a hospital, not a refugee camp_."

Yet it seemed like their tune had changed since morning.

St. Mary's was a lovely establishment, with its ornate granite façade and clean, polished, white interior, reeking of antiseptic. The sterile environment they had encountered earlier was a staunch contrast compared with the scene before them now. What had previously been an empty lobby was now packed with people, their fine gowns and pristine suits torn, burnt, wrinkled, and in other states of disarray, with wounds ranging from mere scrapes to massive gashes, some still oozing blood and others acquiring the sickening stench that was the trademark of festering wounds.

Despite his encounter with the grisly, ravaged corpse of the steer, the sight of all those individuals with dead eyes made Alek's stomach twist into knots. While Deryn had shown him that fabricated beasties were not mere mindless savages, seeing the havoc that the bombing had wreaked on actual people made the event seem more cruel and unusual.

And it raised unwanted questions as to the condition of his dearest friend.

Doctor Barlow was the first to spot the physician that had so flippantly turned them away earlier, but this time he answered their inquiries with a tired sigh and informed them that there was a pair who had come in that fit their description, on the third floor.

As the duo ascended the stairs, it became more and more obvious to Alek that this hospital wasn't meant to accommodate so many patients. The rooms were vast and spacious, looking more like opulent apartments than somewhere to receive treatment. Yet despite their size, patients were still overflowing into the hallways, laid out on gurneys, blankets, or the cold tiled floor.

The carnage was incredible. Alek's mind kept going back to the Japanese kappa, which had utterly demolished the Austrian ship, _Kaiserin Elizabeth_. From atop the _Leviathan_ he could see the creatures setting about their bloody work, but from that high in the sky, he had been spared the most unpleasant sights. Unfortunately in the hospital, he had no such luxury, and seeing so many open wounds, exposed bones, muscles, and innards made him want to retch.

The third floor was marginally better. Those who lacked debilitating injuries had been sent here—a broken arm, shallow cuts that required one or two stitches, and other such minor lacerations. They found Volger and Deryn in a room halfway down the hall. Another patient lay in a bed near the door, and Deryn was situated adjacent to a window, Volger looming next to her.

Immediately the wildcount erupted into a barrage of questions, all of which Alek ignored.  
"What on earth happened to you?" Volger demanded, which he replied with a terse "nothing".

It wasn't just that he didn't want to deal with Volger; the feeling of relief seeing Deryn safe and alive was nearly overwhelming, and Alek found that he barely had the capacity for the other two individuals in the room.

She was lying flat on her back, faint, unladylike snores emanating from her slightly agape mouth. A genuine grin quirked at his lips, the first since this whole ordeal began. He started to wonder why Deryn was in a hospital, until Alek spotted the glistening black beetle, reminiscent of the beastie that had healed her knee, perched atop her forehead, no doubt disguising some kind of head wound.

"I found De- Mr. Sharp near the Endeavour, underneath a pile of dirt and trees. I managed to get him back here, and from what the doctor told me, his only serious injury is a gash on his forehead, which should heal quickly," Volger explained, always curt and to the point.

"Good. Thank you, Volger," Alek murmured. He could feel the wildcount lingering over his shoulder, and Alek couldn't help but wonder if the man expected some kind of acknowledgement that he, too was alive and well. The former prince almost laughed, for Volger was sorely mistaken.

Volger's hopes were certainly dashed when a pair of familiar, wizened brown eyes poked out from under Deryn's sheets. Bovril moved faster than Alek had ever seen, leaping from the bed to Alek's shoulder and erupting into a cyclone tittering and poorly pieced together phrases and words. He scratched the loris behind the ear, at the same time wondering how he could have forgotten about Bovril, and the familiar weight of him always on his shoulders. But with Bovril perched upon his head and Deryn at his side (albeit unconscious), Alek felt content, the anxiety that had been clawing at his interior finally dissipating and leaving him thoroughly exhausted.

"You should get some rest," Count Volger suggested, and for once, Alek agreed with him. While he would have preferred to stay with Deryn, the plush recliner was only a few meters away, and the former prince gratefully sank into its velveteen cushions.

No sooner had he closed his eyes to go to sleep did he hear the harsh thrumming of propellers in the air. A siren accompanied it this time, shrill and piercing and filling every space of London with its wailing cry. Alek flew from the chair and over to the window, shouldering his way in between Volger and Dr. Barlow, his green eyes searching the inky sky, desperately hoping that the sirens had been sounded for something different….

He didn't see anything at first, but the metallic cadence of propellers was cresendoing into an unbearable forte. _They couldn't be back_, he thought._ They had only just left, leaving an ample trail of death and destruction in their wake._

The anxiety that had previously fled him had soon wrapped its claws around his throat, suffocating him in its viselike grip. All he could do was watch as three German fighter jets passed overhead, the black German jack on a field of red billowing behind them.

It seemed like the whole city was holding its breath. Alek was clinging to the windowsill, his knuckles bone white and fingers aching from the pressure. Bovril's paws were digging into his scalp, and the loris was mimicking the sound of the propellers, but Alek hardly seemed to notice. A scream echoed in the alley below. They were all expecting the same thing, the roaring fireball of an exploding building, shrapnel flying in all directions…

…But it never came. Alek peered up at the planes, squinting, searching for the menacing black jack of the Kaiser, but instead, he saw the two headed mechanikal eagle of Austria-Hungary prominently displayed.

His brows knitted together in confusion. Unlike Germany, Austria-Hungary's fleet of aircraft was dismal, Franz Joseph preferring to field an army of Stormwalkers and other such machines to solidify their military power on the ground. However, Alek could recall four jets his father had acquired several years ago, early models that preceded the sleek and powerful German equipment, meant more for decoration than for actual use. He had loved them as a child, nurturing dreams of one day becoming a pilot, escaping from his dull life of fencing lessons and tedious dinner parties. But the dreams of a young boy were fickle—and his father had shown him the gaping cavity where an engine should have been, proving that the planes were little more than oversized toys.

So why, then, were they now in the air? Alek knew they were the same ones hidden beneath the Konopiste castle where he had grown up; the center craft had a charred line running diagonally, the product of a small fire that had erupted in the hangar and destroyed one of the planes. Why would anyone go through all the trouble of reconstructing the remaining three to make them airworthy?

Even when Alek realized that the Hapsburg coat of arms was the image that had been eluding him during the aftermath of the bombing, the way the pieces of the puzzle were supposed to fit continued to elude him. Why bother using his father's decrepit craft when the Germans could have used their own bombers to do twice the damage? It made no _sense_.

Alek cast a cursory glance at Volger; was he thinking the same thing he was? He didn't expect the sad frown on the other man's usually stoic face, and Dr. Barlow was wearing a similar expression. "Why are you both looking at me like that…?"

When it finally hit him, Alek couldn't believe how utterly _stupid_ he felt. Why bother to go through all the trouble to make his father's antiquated planes workable, unless they had some symbolic meaning? It was a perfect way to send a message.

Or perhaps not a message. A warning.

The realization made him dizzy, nauseous. He leaned against the window for support, his green eyes staring vacantly into the alley below. He understood now. German bombers would have done much more damage, yes, but they couldn't convey quite the same meaning.

Alek felt like a drunk man as he pushed himself away from the wall, swatting at two tall figures who kept trying to pull him into a chair and talk some sense into him. He managed to land a hefty blow to the mustachioed one before they finally let him go, the door slamming behind the Austrian as he departed from the room.

He didn't get far before sinking to the ground, drawing his knees to his chest as if for a protective shell. It was his fault. People were dying or already dead, Deryn was unconscious in a hospital bed, all because of a message that had been meant for him and him alone. Had he been anywhere else, so many lives could have been spared. Alek thought that by revoking his claim to the Austria-Hungary throne that he would be rid of the politics tied to his claim, but apparently that was far from true.

Alek wasn't sure how long he sat there, lost in his own thoughts before he finally lifted himself to his feet, swaying unsteadily as he made his way down the hallway. He descended the stairs two at a time, brusquely making his way from one floor to another. Some hollow stares followed him as he passed, but for the most part he went unnoticed, a ghost meandering aimlessly amongst the living. Alek wasn't sure why he expected anything different just because he had been privy to some great realization. They didn't see him as the cause of their woes; he was just a boy clad in a blood-stained suit with wild auburn hair and a manic look in his eyes. All in all, not much different than them.

Alek hardly spared the hospital a backwards glance as he threw open the doors and stepped into the chilly London night.

* * *

**Hopefully that wasn't too awful. As always, comments, concerns, and suggestions are welcomed and encouraged. (:**


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